


Here This Christmas

by myemergence



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas getaway, David Rose Loves Patrick Brewer, Fluff, M/M, Patrick Brewer loves David Rose, Surprises, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, cuddling by the fireplace, spiked hot cocoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myemergence/pseuds/myemergence
Summary: Patrick is struggling to embrace the first holiday season without his family, and it just feels different.  David can't handle a sad Patrick Brewer, especially this time of year, so he takes things into his own hands to ensure it's a Christmas that his husband won't soon forget.**For the prompt: Ugly Christmas Sweaters, spiked hot cocoa & cuddling by the fire.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64
Collections: Schitt's Creek Holiday Festive Fic Swap 2020





	Here This Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my submission for the SC Festive Fic Swap!
> 
> The prompt was: Ugly Christmas Sweaters, spiked hot cocoa & cuddling by the fire. It is all quite _fluffy_. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it (especially the prompter). Have a great holiday season!
> 
> Thanks to Cat for the beta.

“It’s gonna be weird for you this year since your family isn’t coming in for the holidays, isn’t it? I mean, when’s the last time that you and Alexis were apart for this long?” Patrick asks. He rolls over onto his side so that he’s infinitesimally closer to David, the space between them undetectable in the cool night. Despite the fact that Patrick’s asking a very straight-forward question, there’s something in his voice that leads David to believe there’s something else that he’s _not_ asking.

“I guess,” David admits. “The last few years we’ve spent the holidays together, but all the holidays before that were just… _I don’t know_. We were all physically there, but not really there. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

David chuckles a little as he lets the silence settle over them in the dark, his arm wrapping around Patrick’s shoulder’s, fingertips dragging between his shoulder blades. “We were always just going through the motions before Schitt’s Creek, putting on a party because that’s just what we did. The last few years it’s just… it hasn’t been extravagant or over the top and it’s been nice to be able to spend it with the people that I love,” David says.

“Do you ever miss the parties?” Patrick presses a kiss against David’s neck, and he shivers at the loss of his heat when he pulls his lips away.

“Jesus, it’s cold in here,” David complains before nosing against Patrick’s neck with his too-cold nose.

“Such a baby,” Patrick teases with a low chuckle, pressing their bodies closer as their limbs tangle together beneath the covers. It seems like he is actually just trying to keep warm—there are no wandering hands—and David’s forehead creases, trying to get inside of Patrick’s head.

“What about you? It’s your first Christmas without visiting your parents. What are you going to miss?”

“I’m really looking forward to spending the holidays with you at the cabin,” Patrick begins.

David can tell by the way that he’s speaking, with measured reluctance, that there’s something he wants to say, but he’s afraid to say it. “But?”

“It just feels weird that my parents are going to visit our extended family this year and that I’m not even going to see them between Christmas and New Year's. They usually throw the best Ugly Sweater Christmas Party with our friends and family. I’ll just miss that, having all of our friends and family around.”

“Oh. I remember when we visited them that one year for Christmas, I didn’t realize it was a _theme_. I just thought everyone had a terrible fashion sense.”

A quiet rumble of laughter vibrates out of Patrick’s chest, fingers moving in a rhythmic pattern against David’s lower back. “Anyways, I’m looking forward to closing the store for a few days and really getting away for the first time… since, what, the honeymoon?”

For someone who’s supposed to be really happy about their holiday getaway, Patrick sounds subdued, bordering on disappointed. That makes David’s heart ache as he kisses Patrick’s forehead tenderly. “Yeah, it’ll be perfect,” he acquiesces.

It will be.

* * *

Stevie eyes him suspiciously over her steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“You really don’t have anything any stronger than _cocoa_?” David asks with disappointment as he sits down next to her on the couch. It’s late in the day and Patrick is handling the store so that David has a few hours to run some errands and do some Christmas shopping. Instead, he’s at Stevie’s.

“It’s spiked cocoa. You’re honestly _so_ needy. Why did you insist on meeting me here anyway?”

David sighs as he finally takes a sip from his mug, wrapping his hands around the warmth it provides. “It’s Patrick,” he admits.

“Are you guys having problems? What did you do to him?” She seems to be squinting harder as she launches the questions at him. As much as Stevie is supposed to be his best friend, she also has seen how inherently good Patrick is, and she’s the president of what David fondly refers to as the _Patrick Defense Squad_. “Is that why we couldn’t meet at the store?”

“What? _No_. God, you’re so dramatic.” David turns a bit so that they’re facing each other more fully now. “We were talking the other night about the holidays, about this _getaway_ that he’s taking me on and how great it’s going to be. We both know a snowed-in cabin isn’t exactly my idea of a perfect Christmas.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said this was about Patrick?”

“It is,” David insists. “He was asking me about the Rose Christmas parties and if I missed them and it seemed like, I don’t know, like he was fishing for something. Turns out he’s going to really miss this terrible Christmas party that the Brewers throw every year. An Ugly Sweater Christmas Party, at that.”

Stevie’s silent for a long time and David finally rolls his eyes.

“I came over here so you would help me. Are you even going to say anything, because _this?_ Not helpful,” David says.

“I guess I’m not sure what you need from me. Are you wanting me to help you plan this?” Stevie takes several long gulps from her mug before she sets it down on the table in front of her. “If that’s what you need, you know I’ll help,” she finishes, though her tone shows her obvious disinterest in party planning.

“I know how to plan a party, Stevie. I don’t know how to plan _this_ kind of a party.”

“Okay,” Stevie begins, standing up from the couch to retrieve a pad of paper and a pen. “So we start with what you know. Then we’ll tackle what you don’t.”

They spend the better part of an hour making a guest list and figuring out the venue, finally diving into the conversation of what the decor for the party should look like. David decides that even though the attire for the day might be tacky and painful to look at, he still wants the store—the venue for the party—to be understated and classic.

“And the… ugly sweaters,” Stevie reminds him. “Everyone is going to be required to wear one.”

“Maybe everyone except for the host,” David tries. “The host wouldn’t be obligated to wear one.”

“I think the host is obligated to have the _ugliest_ sweater.”

David grimaces at her words. “But I don’t own _any_ ugly sweaters.”

“So, you know who is really into Christmas and would probably be _overjoyed_ to help you?”

David’s stomach drops as he registers the sudden appearance of a pleased grin on Stevie’s face. “Don’t say it.”

“Jocelyn oozes Christmas spirit from every pore, David. She’s the obvious choice. Don’t you remember how excited she was when she thought that Christmas World might take over the old general store? It’ll be perfect.”

Can the world do him this one small favor of swallowing him up whole? Definitely a better fate than asking Jocelyn for help.

“Didn’t I just say _don’t_ say it?”

“David, I know you usually wouldn’t reach out to Jocelyn for help, but remember why you’re doing this. She is like a Griswold-tier Christmas lover.” Stevie pauses then before adding more slowly for effect, “Right down to the ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“What in the hell is a Griswold?”

“Please tell me you’ve seen _National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation_?”

David blinks at her like she’s speaking another language, taking a moment to thoroughly process her words. After a minute, he’s still just as confused as before. “Am… am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Chevy. Chase,” Stevie says, seemingly in distress, her words coming out measured and short. David shrugs his shoulders as he looks at her with the same lost expression on his face. “Okay. So you haven’t seen _one_ classic holiday movie, that’s fine. Please tell me you’ve seen _Home Alone_ , because if not I’m going to have to disown you.”

“I _don’t_ think that I can tell you that.” David says, watching Stevie walk to the kitchen, and he talks louder as she leaves the room. “Are you seriously going to disown me over a stupid movie?”

When Stevie comes back, it’s with a fresh mug of cocoa for herself. “First of all, _Home Alone_ is not a stupid movie. Second of all? No, I’m not, but you’re going to tell Patrick that picking out his Christmas present is taking you _way_ longer than you expected. The lines are horrendous. Then, you’re going to sit here and watch it with me.”

“You want me to _lie_ to Patrick?”

“You could tell him the real reason you’re not at the shop right now,” Stevie offers, taking a small sip before balancing the mug on her knee. “Your choice.”

With a groan, David picks up the phone to call Patrick.

* * *

Stepping into Café Tropical, David smoothes a hand down over his Rick Owens sweater and hesitates. He feels like he’s trapped inside of his worst nightmare, his own personal version of hell: asking Jocelyn Schitt for fashion help. He’s already talked to Jocelyn on the phone and despite David’s suggestion that they should meet in Elmdale, she’d insisted that they meet at the café first.

“Oh,” Jocelyn says excitedly from where she sits at the counter, chatting busily with Tywla. “ _There he is_.”

One. Two. Three.

David continues to count, wondering how many seconds it will take before the earth opens up. When he’s nearly counted to thirty, he realizes it’s not going to happen and decides he needs to put a cap on his pride. He can do this for Patrick, he decides, after all Patrick has done for _him_. David takes a step forward. “Jocelyn, _thanks so much_ for this.”

“She was just telling me about how she’s helping you with,” Twyla’s voice lowers as she glances around the cafe, clearly checking to make sure that Patrick’s not there. Despite not seeing him anywhere, Twyla keeps her voice low, “you know, _the event_.”

David clears his throat and tries to school his features, pushing down every single ounce of pride that he can manage. He takes a deep breath, allowing it to whoosh past his lips before he attempts to say anything. “Yeah, she’s been a great help,” he forces out. “Are you ready to go? Busy day ahead.”

“Ooooh,” Jocelyn says as she looks at him. “I actually just ordered, why don’t you join me for lunch and then we can go? You can fill me in on all of the fun festive decorations you’ll be using for the party.”

Fun festive decor is _not_ going to happen. He slips into the seat next to Jocelyn.

He can do this—he can do the impossible—muddling through this and asking for Jocelyn’s fashion advice for a single afternoon.

* * *

“You know if you keep pinching your forehead together like that, you’re going to end up with wrinkles,” Alexis chastises her brother as she watches him fret over the decor.

“I don’t know, I just feel like it’s _too much_ ,” David explains. Despite his attempts to keep things within a certain palette and fit the usual ambience of Rose Apothecary, David feels like it’s a losing battle, adding touches that he never wanted to begin with. “It just looks wrong.” David Rose has thrown his share of parties and yet when he looks around he can’t seem to focus on any of the things that he’s done well, only the possible short-comings.

“David,” Alexis says as she touches his arm lightly, enough to make him stop rearranging the little knit ugly sweater ornaments that he’d ordered as favors for the party. “Patrick is going to love this. I know it’s outside of your comfort zone and that you’d never choose half of these things, but they’re nostalgic for him. It’s about Patrick, right?”

Groaning, David turns away from the display. He’d convinced Patrick that he had the store under control today. To ensure that Patrick would be too busy to drop by to check in on the store, he’s made it impossible for Patrick to accomplish any of his holiday shopping before today.

“You do know I hate when you’re right.”

Alexis grins back at him before she boops him on the nose. She makes her way over to where Stevie is rearranging the donations that have been dropped off so far for a local family in need, seeing if she needs any help.

David takes a deep breath, glancing down at the most recent text message on his phone from Clint. Everything's coming together like it should. The party guests are beginning to drift into Rose Apothecary, all decked out in their most appalling Christmas sweaters. The sight of everyone else in their sweaters seems to reactivate David’s discomfort, tugging at the neckline of the sweater Jocelyn had painstakingly helped him choose, barely resisting the instinct to claw his way out of it.

He leans back against the counter, dialing the familiar number. After only a ring and a half Patrick picks up.

“Hey Patrick,” David says by way of a greeting.

“Um, hey. Look, I’m kind of in the middle of cashing out, can I call you back?”

God, David feels like a total ass doing this to Patrick, but he doesn’t know any other way to get him down here in a timely manner. “Uh, it’s kind of—I screwed something up with the register _again_ and somehow inventory is off and I can’t figure it out.”

“David,” Patrick says slowly, and David can imagine the way that he’s standing up a little straighter, pursing his lips together as he evaluates the situation. “We have a system for the inventory, _how_...” His voice trails off and David hears a measured breath on the other end of the line. “I’m cashing out now, I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“He’s on his way,” David announces once he hangs up, hoping that tonight goes according to plan and that Patrick is overjoyed by a Schitt’s Creek version of his very favorite part of the holidays with his family.

A few minutes later Patrick’s parents arrive, both Clint and Marcy embracing David, as if he’s always been a part of their family. “Merry Christmas,” Marcy says as she finally releases him, looking at David fondly. “He’s so lucky to have you.”

“Oh, well.” David laughs quietly under her praise before he grins back at her. “You should tell him that when he gets here.”

Clint smiles before clapping him lightly on the shoulder. “We’re going to make ourselves scarce for now, but you’re done an amazing job and I just _love_ the sweater.”

The sweater again, sweet Jesus, he can practically hear Jocelyn fawning over the sweater all over again. With its clashing colors, less than comfortable material and a gigantic dancing reindeer, he can’t quite get behind the dress code for his own party.

“I need a drink,” David mutters, stepping over towards the table before he’s distracted by Alvin and the Chipmunks playing over the speakers. “Excuse me, Alexis, what is this? My very strict instructions indicated that we were listening to Mariah’s Merry Christmas album. _Exclusively_.”

He’s unable to continue the argument with Alexis about the music as he hears the door open, his attention instantly snapping to the door as it closes behind Patrick.

“David… what’s—what’s all this?” Patrick stands frozen just inside of the doorway, processing the sight of their friends gathered around the store, the decidedly un-David decor, complete with shimmering tinsel that covers the store.

“You said the thing you’d miss the most was the Ugly Sweater Christmas Party that your parents always threw for your friends and family. So, consider this my present to you… oh, and this, too,” David finished softly, grabbing a gift box from the counter before he closes the distance between them and hands it to Patrick.

“Wait, I… you’re wearing an ugly sweater. I just need a second to take all of _this_ in,” Patrick says, gesturing towards David’s sweater.

He raises an eyebrow at Patrick. “Don’t get used to it. Now open your present.”

Patrick only hesitates for a second before he’s tearing open the paper and pulling out a sweater that mirrors David’s. “Did you get us matching sweaters, David?” Patrick’s eyes light up, clearly pleased with the idea.

“Don’t get used to this. It will _never_ happen again.”

“This is such a gift in itself, not even considering all of this. This is perfect,” Patrick motions around him, really taking in what David’s done with the space in the store to accommodate the party, along with all of their friends and family that David was able to round up to attend. “The only thing missing is—”

“A partridge in a pear tree,” Clint sings along with a grin as he and Marcy make their way over to Patrick.

“Mom! Dad! What are you guys doing here? I thought you guys were going to Aunt Tammy’s for the holidays.” The look of utter shock that almost instantaneously morphs into joy sends a surge of warmth to David’s heart. Patrick embraces both of his parents before turning to David. “You did this and you didn’t tell me. How long ago did you plan this?”

David shrugs, a sly grin crossing his lips before Patrick snakes an arm around his waist. He leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to his husband’s lips. “I’m taking that one to the grave,” David teases.

* * *

Everything goes according to plan and all of the things that David spent countless hours obsessing and worrying about were all without merit. He heard one too many _I told you so’s_ slip past Stevie’s lips earlier in the night.

They’re finally at home, after cleaning up and closing up the store around 11. David settles deep beneath the comforter, pulling it up over his shoulder as he gets comfortable, bringing down a silk sleep mask down to cover his eyes. Patrick steps into the bedroom after he finishes brushing his teeth and climbs into the bed behind David, wrapping his arms around his husband’s trunk.

David relaxes into his arms, letting out a quiet sigh as Patrick brushes a light kiss against the back of his neck.

“Thank you for tonight,” Patrick murmurs quietly.

“Of course,” David says, turning just enough to place a kiss against Patrick’s lips. He settles back onto his pillow, his back pressing against Patrick’s chest.

“I’d like to show you just how much I appreciate everything you did tonight,” Patrick murmurs suggestively, his lips lightly brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck. David muffles a yawn into the crook of his elbow despite Patrick’s words. Seemingly impatient, Patrick’s hand drops lower, lightly palming David through his sweats.

“Mmmh,” David murmurs instinctively before he can stop himself. He bites down on his bottom lip before batting away Patrick’s wandering hand. He wants Patrick to touch him, wants to show his thanks for the party going off without a hitch but he knows that for tonight, it needs to be absolutely out of the question. “ _No_. If you expect me to be awake and on the road by 8 am tomorrow, I’m gonna need all the sleep I can get tonight.”

“No? You’re turning me down, David?” Patrick asks him, clearly surprised as he lets David brush his hand away, watching him closely as he turns around to face Patrick.

“Yes, I am turning you down because I love you very much. I want to be the _smallest_ amount of miserable about riding in your death-trap of a car for six hours tomorrow morning, thanks so much.”

Patrick’s laughs before he kisses David softly, brushing his thumb over his jawline. “Love you, too.”

* * *

The morning is a series of unfortunate events. It takes Patrick no less than seven attempts to get David out of bed and ready to get on the road. Knowing David as well as he does, Patrick seems to have built that into their plan for the morning, which David finds incredibly offensive. Like he knew that David would fight him about getting out of bed before nine.

“Come on, sleeping beauty.”

“There is nothing beautiful about waking me up at this ungodly hour,” David vows dramatically, reaching down to grab the comforter and pull it over his head.

“What if I said I stopped at Balentine’s for your favorite muffins... all the way outside of town and bought your favorite coffee, just the way you like it?”

David’s silent as he slips the sleep mask off of his eyes. He peeks out from beneath the comforter, squinting at Patrick to ensure this wasn’t a part of some elaborate ruse to trick him out of bed with no reward. The mattress dips as Patrick sits on the bed, coffee in hand and extends it to him.

“What kind of a muffin?”

“Lemon blueberry. And I picked up some Christmas cookies for us to enjoy at the cabin. You don’t even have to pack your bag, it’s all taken care of,” Patrick tells him as David finally lets the warmth of the comforter fall away. A small shiver trembles through David’s body, and he feels the heat of Patrick’s hand against his back before he’s pressing the coffee cup into his hands. “Here, have a couple sips of coffee to warm up. We’re hitting the road in ten.”

“Ten,” David says quietly to himself, as if he’s trying out the word for the first time. “Ten. Ten _hours_ , right, Patrick?”

An amused chuckle slips past Patrick’s lips. He gets up from the bed, stopping in the doorway to watch David as he takes a few sips of his coffee. “You have ten minutes, David.”

“Wait. _Stop_. How am I supposed to be ready in ten minutes? Plus, you still have to pack up the car.”

“While you were busy sleeping until 9:15, I’ve been on the go since six making sure that everything is ready to go. Car is loaded up, the gas tank is full, and snacks have been purchased for the road trip.”

“Okay, well,” David says. He wants to argue, to say something important that Patrick has somehow forgotten. He also knows his husband well enough to know that he’s about the most thorough human being on the planet, with checklists, spreadsheets, and schedules for nearly every aspect of their lives. The chances of him actually forgetting something, especially on a trip that he’s been looking forward to for months, is pretty slim.

“If you want to have a clean mouth before we hit the road, I’d suggest getting moving,” Patrick quips.

David glares at him dramatically before he finally crawls out of bed and gets ready to go. Somehow, they’re both in the car in less than fifteen minutes and David wonders how he’s going to endure six hours in the car.

The first few hours go by peacefully enough as David scrolls through Instagram and is able to keep himself distracted by social media. Then, the boredom begins to set in.

“Are we there yet?”

“We’ve only been on the road for three hours. We still have about three hours until we get to the cabin.”

David wants to whine, really _really_ wants to whine when Patrick tells him what he already knows. It’s not that this is a surprise, really, he’s known how long the road trip was for weeks now. Six hours, in theory, seems like a very do-able amount of hours to be in a car. This terrible, terrible death-trap of a car. But in practice? It’s _so_ much longer than he anticipated. That’s like 360 minutes. An insurmountable number of seconds weaved together, beginning to feel like torture.

“I’m bored _and_ hungry.”

“David,” Patrick laughs as he glances over at him before returning his full attention to the road. “You knew how long we were going to be on the road for. This is not a surprise that I’ve just burdened you with today.”

David knows this is true, but it really doesn’t change anything. He’s still bored. And hungry. “Well, I know, I wasn’t trying to say—”

“In the bag.” David glances over at him with a slight squint, waiting for Patrick to continue. “The bakery bag. There’s a few extras in there. We’ll stop for something quick in about an hour, alright?”

David opens up the bag before pulling a muffin out for himself. “Do you wanna split it with me?”

Patrick reaches over a hand, gently squeezing his thigh. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Silently, David picks at the top of the muffin and takes a small bite. With the music playing quietly throughout the car David’s leg begins to bounce with pent up, utterly _bored_ energy. Patrick’s lips twitch up into a smile.

When Patrick reaches a stop sign, he turns slightly and pulls out a book from a bag settled just behind the center console, handing it to him. “I brought this along for you, y’know, just in case.”

“You bought me a Mariah Carey book?” David asks, his voice sounding utterly overjoyed with the prospect. “Thank you so much, but I can’t read it in the car.”

“What? Why? It could keep you busy for a couple of hours til we stop.”

“I get motion sickness if I read in the car. And reading in _this_ car? We’ll probably end up pulled over on the side of the road and that will not be an attractive look for me.”

Patrick chuckles at David who has settled the book in his lap by the time. “Okay, so a book’s out of the question for the drive, then. What other options do we have?”

David purses his lips together in thought, trying to think of the things that they might be able to do to keep him entertained. He glances down at the book in his lap, _The Meaning of Mariah Carey_ , when suddenly it reminds him.

 _He’s Patrick’s Mariah Carey,_ but Patrick is the one of them that can sing _._

“How about we really get into the holiday season?” David pauses as he glances out the window, where the snow has begun to fall. The snow is drifting down, slowly covering the roads in a light blanket of snow. “What if you sang ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You?’”

Flipping the defroster on, Patrick glances at David out of the corner of his eye. “You do realize there are radio stations that are playing Christmas music as we speak, right? Then we could hear _numerous_ Christmas songs.”

“It’s not the same.”

“ _David_.”

“I love your voice, even more than Mariah.” A shocked sound slips past Patrick’s lips, turning his head to look at David for a short pause. He turns his attention back to the road as David continues, “and I will not be repeating that statement ever again, so please let it fully sink in.”

“You’re making it really impossible to say no.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

“Fine,” Patrick acquiesces, “but on one condition.” David waits to hear what his condition is, what he needs from him in order to hear Patrick beautifully sing for him. He remains silent as he waits for Patrick to continue, “you sing it with me.”

David groans quietly, his face a picture of pain and dread. There are many things that David can do, many talents that he has. Even more are the things that he’s mediocre at. There’s a short list of things that David feels utterly terrible at and singing is among those things.

Patrick knows this.

“My voice does not even come close to doing Mariah justice. You can’t expect me to—”

“Sing with your husband about only wanting him for Christmas? Yeah, I do fully expect you to belt out every word as loudly as possible.”

So he does. With his favorite person beside him, in a crappy car that he hates—on a longer car ride than he’ll ever agree to again—David belts out the words he knows like the back of his hand, with the love of his life singing just as loudly beside him.

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_

_This is all I'm asking for_

_I just wanna see my baby_

_Standing right outside my door_

_I just want you for my own_

_More than you could ever know_

_Make my wish come true_

_Baby all I want for Christmas is you_

* * *

“Finally,” David murmurs as they drive up the long, snow-dusted road leading to the log cabin ahead. It looks rustic and absolutely beautiful, even if the drive left David miserable for longer than he’d care to admit. Patrick knows him well enough to know that those minutes of misery would be worth _this_ , sharing these days together away from their family and friends, away from the store. As much as they love those things and those people, they’ve barely had any downtime since their honeymoon.

They needed this, and Patrick made sure they would have everything that they needed.

Like always.

David’s heart clenches at the thought, a feeling of pure love and fondness overcoming him.

They climb out of the car wordlessly and David immediately shivers in the cold as he pulls open the back door of the car to pull some of their things out.

“You look like you’re freezing,” Patrick says as he rubs a palm over his lower back. “Don’t worry about that stuff,” he instructs, gently tugging on his hand until David goes with him.

Patrick kisses him and when he pulls away, wraps his scarf around David’s neck. Leading David by the hand, Patrick takes him to the cabin before pressing the keys into his hand. “It would be a huge help if you could open it up and get us something warm to drink. I’ll grab the bags.”

Not allowing any room for argument, Patrick heads back to the car to gather their things as David slides the key into the lock, letting himself inside. He flips on the lights, stepping deeper into the cabin and trying to get acquainted with the space that they’ll be staying in for the next few days. The air feels crisp and chilled, so David walks over to the thermostat before turning the dial to knock the chill out of the air. David toes off his boots, leaving them on the mat by the front door.

Rubbing his hands together, David feels his limbs begin to warm up before stepping into the small but effective space in the kitchen. He spots a tea kettle sitting on the stove top and fills it with water before turning the burner on, waiting for Patrick to return with the last of the bags. As the warmth of the cabin begins to surround him, David removes his jacket but leaves the scarf around his neck for an extra layer of warmth.

“How’s everything looking in here?” Patrick asks once he’s finished bringing things inside. He carries the groceries that he’d purchased before they left Schitt’s Creek and brings them into the kitchen.

“I just put the tea kettle on. Can I get you something to warm up? It’s like the frozen tundra out there.”

Patrick smiles as he walks over to David, slipping his arms easily around his torso. “I can think of at least one thing that could warm me up,” Patrick teases, pressing his icy lips to David’s who instinctively pulls away. “Get back here.”

“No, you’re freezing. How about you go sit down on the couch with a blanket and I’ll get you something warm to drink?” David suggests, standing an arm’s length away from Patrick’s chilly grasp. As much as he wants to wrap his arms around Patrick, he finally just got warm himself. He leads Patrick to the couch where he sits before handing him the heavy throw that’s draped across the back.

“Thank you,” Patrick says as he takes the offered blanket before grabbing David’s hands and tugging him down onto the couch. “I could really use a _human_ blanket right now.”

“Sweetheart,” David chuckles as he wraps his arms around Patrick. “I’ve gotta get our drinks, then I’ll come back and warm you up. I promise.”

“The kettle will let you know when it’s ready.”

And he isn’t wrong, the tea kettle will whistle when it begins to boil. David runs his hands up and down his husband’s arms in an attempt to help him get warm. He finds himself enamored, eyes lingering on Patrick’s lips before he leans forward and captures them, moving one hand up to his jaw and cradling his cheek. The initial coolness of Patrick’s lips is startling, but as David kisses him, his lips turn warm and Patrick melts into his space.

And, okay, David hadn’t always been excited about being hours away from the store, but he could get used to this.

 _What the_ hell _is that noise?_ The sound is piercing as David withdraws from the kiss, a hand gently pressing against Patrick’s chest. His brain feels fogged over and hazy as he tries to pinpoint where the sound is coming from and what it could possibly be. “What— what in the _hell_ —”

The laughter that causes Patrick’s body to shake against his is distracting, and David’s brow pinches together, an almost offended look passing over his features.

“The kettle, David. It’s the tea kettle.”

Wordlessly, David tosses the blanket completely over Patrick’s lap before making his way into the kitchen.

When David returns, it’s with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand. He notices that, in the time that he’s been gone, a fire has been started in the fireplace and he can’t help but smile at the simplicity of the moment. With nowhere to go and nothing to worry about, he can allow himself to truly enjoy these moments with his husband. As he rounds the couch, he gives one of the steaming mugs to Patrick before sitting beside him, curling himself up against him like an oversized cat, tucked up against his side.

Patrick takes a tiny sip from the offered cup, his other hand running idly against David’s back in circles. He finds himself blanketed by the warmth in the cabin; from the fireplace, the throw, and the mug of cocoa that presses hotly against his now-warm hands. Moreso from the heat of the palm rubbing rhythmically against his back, and the fondness that he sees shining in Patrick’s eyes.

Finally, Patrick breaks the silence. “So, I know not that long ago you asked me what I’m going to miss the most about the holidays this year, I mean—before you went ahead and planned this elaborate party for me. But you never really said what your favorite Christmas tradition was?”

“Oh, well, we didn’t have a lot of holiday traditions outside of the Rose Christmas parties that my parents used to host. Most of our Christmases we didn’t really spend together until the last few years. Before we moved here, when we were younger, Alexis and I used to steal some cookies that were obviously meant for the grand affair, and we’d hide where nobody else would find us and eat them.”

Patrick’s lips purse together as he listens to David, clearly deep in thought. “So you don’t have a favorite Christmas, then?” He hears the measured reluctance in his husband’s tone clearly. It’s as if he’s at war with himself, trying to decide if his desire to know the answer is worth opening up whatever feelings might come along with David’s answer.

“The last few Christmases have been really nice, getting to spend them with my family,” David admits. “But my favorite? It’s this one, here with you. We both spent some time with our families and the people that we care about the most. Now I get to share our first Christmas as husbands with you, disconnected from all of the things that we’re obligated to do, and just enjoy this time together.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” Patrick admits, leaning forward to press a tender kiss against David’s lips.

“I have some ideas of the kinds of things we could do while just being together.”

“So do I,” Patrick admits suddenly as he gets up from the couch. “Speaking of things we can do together, Stevie told me you haven’t seen _Christmas Vacation_ and we are definitely fixing that.”

“We have very different ideas,” David says, deadpan. “How about instead of doing your idea, we just do my idea instead.”

“Do you not remember a very significant conversation that we had about compromise?”

“I do.”

“ _And_?”

“I thought we decided that the best way to compromise was by letting me have what I want,” David says the words slowly, as though wanting to make sure that Patrick doesn’t miss what he’s saying. He’s aware that they’ve had the compromise conversation before. Distinctly remembers a point being made at the store with him and Stevie and a bunch of plungers hanging out in the front of the store, which was just _incorrect_. It doesn’t mean that he has to like it, or make it easy for Patrick.

He still wants what he wants.

Patrick’s laugh is loud and full-bodied this time when he shakes his head in disbelief. “No, that is definitely _not_ what we decided on.”

“Okay, so how about we do my idea _now_.”

“And, then?” Patrick urges, teeth grazing his bottom lip in what appears to be a withering attempt at repressing a smile.

“Then I can go to bed happy and I’m pretty sure that you’ll go to bed happy as well,” David grins at him, thumb grazing over Patrick’s arm.

“David, this is not how a compromise works.”

“Fine,” David says reluctantly. “If we do what I want tonight, then we can watch your movie tomorrow.”

“Or, since we always do what you want we could do _my thing_ first this time.” David tries not to smile, to tell him that he’s wrong and that they do what Patrick wants sometimes—the truth is that he’s always letting David get away with a little more than he should.

So, even though David knows what he wants, he purses his lips together as the corner of his lips show a whisper of a smile. “Okay, this once,” David agrees, “but only because it’s Christmas.”

Balancing his half-empty mug of hot chocolate against his thigh, Patrick leans in for a kiss, and David can feel as his lips curl up into a smile. “And maybe, we can do yours after the movie. If you actually give the movie a chance.”

Patrick flips on the television as David leans into him, setting their empty mugs on the coffee table.

“Alright, so, give me the rundown on this movie that is apparently _a classic_.”

“No, no. You’re going into this completely blind so that you can have the whole experience.”

“Oh, this movie is an _experience_?” David asks, unable to stop the tells of amusement from crossing his face, lips pursing together and eyebrows raised.

Patrick pulls the blanket more snugly around them, his arm draping over David’s shoulders, but he doesn’t tease or roll his eyes in reply to his words. Instead, he presses his lips tenderly against David’s temple. “With you, every day is an experience.”

David opens his mouth to say something witty in reply, but the sentiment and rough tone of Patrick’s words tell him that the words weren’t said in jest. They’re meaningful and honest, like all of the best parts of Patrick, and he’s looking forward to each and every experience with him, starting with their first Christmas as husbands.


End file.
